


Arms Length

by Bonami27



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Best Friends, Boyfriends, Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Insomniac Bang Chan, Lee Felix & Seo Changbin are Best Friends, Lee Felix (Stray Kids) is a Sweetheart, Lee Felix (Stray Kids)-centric, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major Illness, Major character death - Freeform, Minor Bang Chan/Lee Felix, Minor Lee Felix/Seo Changbin, Multi, Other, POV Bang Chan, Sad Bang Chan, Sibling Death, Soft Lee Felix (Stray Kids), Swearing, use of strong language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-05-12 05:38:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19222717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonami27/pseuds/Bonami27
Summary: Trigger Warning: Depiction of choking within this chapter, so just a heads up for anyone that's particularly squimmish. Also swearing.





	1. Felix

I trace the outline of my sisters drawing, lungs moulded from an array of other worldly beings. Shapes burst out from every edge of the twin ovals, hues of black, greys and whites make up the unmistakable picture. Looking at the depicted seemingly healthy lungs, my heart sinks. I wonder, all too often, what it would be like to have lungs that healthy. That _alive_. I take a deep breath, feeling my body shake as air fights it’s way in and out of my body.

I clear my already croaky throat, pulling my hand away from my sisters charcoal drawing. Leaning over to the bedside table I pickup the framed family photo that sits there neatly. Rachel and my identical smiles peek out from beneath thick woolen scarves, the Christmas lights in Lotte World twinkling above our, our parents and younger sister’s heads.

Though the photo captured happier, healthier times, I couldn’t deny that there was a bitter sense of sadness there too. The soft glow of the amusement park lights, the white snow clinging to the branches of the trees, the quiet stillness of it all. We’d all been pathetically under-dressed for the Korean winter, but such was our family tradition; visiting Lotte World for the Christmas holiday break.

I flip the photo over and loosen the clips keeping it within the frame. Taking the photo out of the frame, I scrabble to find thumbtacks in amongst the pile of unfinished songs and music projects scattered upon the all-too-clean floor. Finding mismatched thumbtacks, I pin the photo up next to my sister’s latest drawing, taking a fraction too long before settling back into the bed. Now back in bed, I pickup one of the notebooks that had found itself flung onto the floor during my unpacking. My tired eyes travel down the seemingly endless ‘to do list’ that I’d made for myself earlier this morning. Starting with #1 ‘Plan endless ‘to-do list’’, which I’ve already crossed off, my eyes trail down to #22 ‘Contemplate the after-life’. #22 was probably a little ambitious for a Friday afternoon, even I had to admit, but at least for now I can cross off #17 ‘Decorate walls’. I look around the formerly stark hospital room that I’ve spent the better half of my morning making feel more like my room back at home. Just like my own bedroom, the walls are now scattered with my older sister’s drawings, posters of my favourite musicians and bands, photos of family, friends and pets and the odd holiday thrown in for good measure too. Each and every photo serving as a reminder of my life before CF. 

If one were to ignore the vibrancy of the moments of my life plastered across every square inch of space of the room, they’d be shocked to see just how much medical equipment I require just to stay alive. Among the literal cabinet worth of antibiotics and supplements I’m required to take, there’s the Nebulizer, Oxygen tank, Nose cannula and let’s not forget the IV. I eye off the currently empty IV stand sitting neatly in the corner of my room, all too aware of the impending first, of undoubtedly many, rounds of antibiotics that await me during my stay at St Vincent’s Hospital. Lucky me.

“ _Here it is!_ ” a voice calls from just outside the door to my room. The voice distracts me from my reverie and I look up as the door to my room slowly slides open, two familiar faces peering in. Woojin and Minho have visited me millions of times over the past decade and they _still_ can't make their way from the hospital foyer to my room without needing to ask everybody they see for directions.

“You’ve got the wrong room,” I say as a look of relief washes over both their faces.

Minho laughs, “Wouldn’t surprise me if that were true. I swear this place has changing staircases or something.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” I nod. “You guys excited?” I say, getting up out of bed to give them both a hug. 

Woojin pulls away to look at me, scowling, his usually mischievous eyes becoming a little duller at my question. “This is going to be the second tour without you.”

It’s true; this isn’t the first time my cystic fibrosis has gotten in the way of tour commitments, a fan-signing, group practices and the pursuance of my dream. 70% of the time I’m able to live a fairly normal life; I attend school, hang out with my band mates, go on tour and interact with fans and work on producing music. I just do it all with low functioning lungs. The remaining 30% is spent coughing up a lung (literally), with CF controlling my life. Meaning, when I need to return to hospital for a check-up, I miss out on things like world tours, fan-signs and life as a whole.

This particular check-up just happens to be centred around the fact that I need to be pumped full of antibiotics to rid myself of a sore throat and fever that just will not go away.

That, and my floundering lung function.

Minho flops down at the end of my bed, huffing dramatically as he does so. “The tour’s only two weeks, Felix. Are you sure you can’t come?”

I smirk slightly. 

“I’m sure.” I say firmly, and they know I’m not joking around. We’ve been friends for years, and they both know that as far as life goes, my CF has a way of getting in the way. Best laid plans, right?

It’s not like I don't want to go on tour, of course I do. It’s just that my being on tour is, quite literally, a matter of life and death. I can’t go on tour around Korea, or anywhere, for risk of not making back. I can’t do that to my fans, my band mates, my friends and especially not my parents. Not now.

“Stray Kids just isn’t the same without you though. I mean, can’t you get them to move your treatments or something? None of us want you to be stuck here,” Woojin chimes in, gesturing to the walls of the hospital room I’ve so meticulously made my own.

I shake my head. “We still have our world tour later in the year, there’s no way in hell I’m missing out on that. CF can kiss my ass,” I say, laughing slightly. Neither Minho or Woojin join me in laughing, both instead looking like I’d killed their family pets.

I notice that they’re both holding the bags of fan letters I’d asked them to bring. I grab the bag in Woojin’s hand in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“How many confessions of love we up to this time?” I smirk. Seeing as I’m not going on tour, fan letters and Vlive sessions are the second best things. Plus, the fan letters help pass the time between grueling treatments.

This makes them exchange mischievous looks. The both of them dump the contents of the bags onto my bed, creating a mishmash of coloured, patterned and plain stationary.

I scan the pile, grabbing a red envelope at the top. Peeling back the seal, I carefully open the envelope and scan the contents of the letter contained inside. What’s been written is actually really sweet and it’s easy to tell that the writer put a lot of effort into writing it, and even as a young adult male, I can admit I’m moved.

“What’s it say?” pipes up Minho, who had occupied himself by flipping through various letters. 

“Just a fan writing to say they hope I get better soon.” I state. 

He shakes his head in disappointment. “And here I was hoping for some juicy admission of love.”

I smirk, giving a huff in response. It’s then that I notice Woojin, slouched comfortably in the token guest chair found in each room of the hospital, typing furiously into his phone.

“Oi, earth to Woojin. Care to join us in the reading of our fan mail?”

“Huh? Oh yeah yeah,” he nods, his eyes not leaving his phone.

I throw a rather bulky letter at his head, my aim, faultless. “Dude.”

Woojin grimaces in false pain, tossing his phone to the side.

“Big news; Kai and Jenny have broken up.” He wriggles his eyebrows.

“Seriously?” I ask, incredulously. This is news. Great news, for Woojin at least. The guy’s been crushing on Jenny for ages. The news isn’t great for KaixJenny shippers, obviously, but as Stray Kids will be flying out to KCON later this year, Woojin might actually be in with a chance after-all.

Minho scowls.

“You know our agency is against us dating regular folk. Who knows how they’d take it if you started dating an idol from a rival agency. Not cool bro.”

Woojin shrugs, coming over to the bed and grabbing a handful of fan mail. “It’s no big deal. We’re going to run into them at KCON anyway. No harm in being friendly, right?”

I give Woojin a look, and he breaks out in a schoolboy grin.

“Okay, so it’s kind of a big deal. I might be an idol, but I’m still human.”

“Everyone knows you’re just a hormone fuelled teenage boy, don’t kid yourself.” Minho mocks.

The three of us break out in laughter. There’s no denying it; the guy has testosterone for days. 

Just then, Minho’s phone goes off, causing our laughter to dissipate. He pulls his phone out of his hoodie pocket, noticing me out of the corner of his eye scrutinising over him reading whatever message he’d received.

After a few minutes, he returns his phone back into his pocket, glances at Woojin then looks over at me sheepishly.

“It’s our manager; we have to get back to the studio to go over final preparations for the tour. Sorry.” 

I get up from off the bed, my heart sinking slightly at them having to leave, but I figure there’s no point in drawing out the goodbye. “Nah it’s all good, no doubt you’re going to be up til the ass crack of dawn packing, so I appreciate you guys coming around.”

Minho looks around the room awkwardly while Woojin swings his jacket around dejectedly. The two of them are making this harder than I thought it would be. I gulp back the guilt and annoyance that come to a boil. It’s not like they’re the ones missing out on a tour, confined instead to an isolated ward of Seoul’s largest hospital, left alone for hours at a time.

I give them both a gummy smile, practically pushing them towards the door. My cheeks hurt with all the fake positivity but I don’t want to ruin the excitement for them.

“We’ll face time you heaps.” Minho says, pulling me into a hug.

“Like you could resist this Aussie boy charm, we all know you’ll miss me.” I smirk at Woojin.

They linger in the doorway, and I give them an exaggerated eye-roll, playfully pushing them out into the hospital hallway. “Get outta here. Go and make Stays proud.”

‘Yeah, okay!” they both call back as they make their way down the hallway. I watch them until they’re out of sight, wanting nothing more than to be leaving with them, packing instead of unpacking.

My smile fades as I close the door and see the old group photo pinned to the back of it. It was taken a few years back now, the night JYP had announced we, Stray Kids, we’re going to be his next big project. All of us have a goofy smile upon our face, smiling happily at the camera as it captured the moment. I feel a sense of homesickness coming on as I remember the heat of the stage lights, the cheer of the crowd, the wetness of the tears that stained my cheeks, happy tears of course. I miss that feeling; all of us together, happy and healthy. For the most part.

None of this moping is helping the situation. Sighing, I pull myself, looking over to the medicine cart sitting in the corner of my room.

In all honesty, I kind of like it here. It’s become my home away from home. I get my treatments, I take my medication, I get to eat and drink my body weight on the daily and once I get better, I’m permitted to leave. Simple as that. But this time is different. This time I feel anxious, uneasy even. Because this time, instead of just wanting to get better, I need to get better. For everyone’s sake.

They’ve gone and messed everything up by getting a divorce, losing each other in the process. After losing the other, I don’t think they could handle losing me too.

‘If I can get better then maybe…’

I shake my head.

“One step at a time, Felix.” I say to myself.

Heading over to the wall with all the valves for oxygen, I double-check the flow meter, waiting for the distinct hiss of the oxygen coming out of it before pulling the tube out of it’s dock, placing it over my head and hooking it behind my ears, the cannula sitting neatly in each of my nostrils. Sighing, I sink into the unpleasantly hard hospital mattress and take a deep breath.

I reach for my pocket notebook and read the next thing on my to-do list; #18 Record a video.

I grab a pen and bite the end of it thoughtfully before crossing #18 off the list. Funnily enough, #22, ‘contemplating what comes after death’, seems the easier choice right now. 

But the list is the list. So, exhaling heavily, I reach into the bedside drawer and pull out my laptop. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I tap my fingers anxiously on the keyboard, squinting at my reflection in the computer screen as I wait for it to start up. I frown at my haggard appearance; my skin is sallow and I’ve lost a lot of weight. My hair isn’t in its usual impeccable style and my eyes have lost the cheeky spark they’re known for having. But such is the reality of CF.

Logging into Vlive, I adjust the setting for my webcam, adding a filter to the video playback. As much as I’m not one to sugarcoat things, I feel there’s no sense in worrying fans with the reality of how bad I actually look this time around.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, hearing the familiar wheeze of my lungs struggling desperately to take in air against the build-up of mucus. Exhaling slowly, I slap an overly-enthusiastic smile on my face before opening my eyes and hitting the enter key to go live.

Waiting a few minutes for the stream to go live on the viewers end, I sit staring at the camera mutely. It doesn’t take long for the viewer numbers to start rolling.

“Hey guys, it’s been a while. How’s everyone’s holidays been? Anyone else been waiting for snow that’s probably not going to come?”

I get up off the bed and make my way to the bay window, taking my laptop with me. The sky outside is grey and cloudy, the trees outside bare of any leaves. I take note of the 23K viewers of the Vlive, a fraction of Stray Kids1.7 million subscribers.

“So, at about this time I should be getting ready for Stray Kids two week tour around Korea, but instead I find myself unpacking for a stint in my home away from thanks to a mildly sore throat.”

And a raging fever. I think back to when I had my temperature taken this morning, the numbers showing up at 39.3 degrees Celsius. I don’t want to mention that in the video, knowing full well my parents are either currently watching or will watch the Vlive later in the day. As far as they’re aware, I just have a cold. And the less they know, the better.

“I mean, I don’t want any of you guys to worry that you’ll never see me again or that I’m leaving Stray Kids. There’s no way I’m missing out on our world tour scheduled for later this year. I’d be buying tickets now though, if you haven’t already. Sure, I’m going to miss hanging out with the guys and meeting you, our Stay, but I’ve got to get better so I can give you my all in future performances and MVs, yeah?”

My computer dings as comments begin rolling in. I see one comment asking after Chang Bin. Chang Bin is my best friend and a fellow CF sufferer. We’ve spent many a month in the hospital together, supporting each other through what can only be described as excruciatingly painful, treatments and surgeries. 

Between treatments and in my spare time (which, when admitted, I have a lot of), I do Vlive streams to keep in touch with the fans and work in raising awareness of what it’s like to be a nineteen year old Korean idol living with cystic fibrosis. Through doing the Vlives, I’ve become closer to the fans and gained a lot of support from those that have stuck with me through the thick and thin.

“But keeping it real, my lung function is at about 35%,” I say as I turn the camera back to me. “And while that sounds scary, there is good news; Dr. Kim says I’m climbing to the top of the transplant list. So, I’ll be here for a month, taking a round of antibiotics and stuff.”

I reach over to the medication cart, taking one of the glass medication bottles that line the top shelf. “That means taking a tonne of meds, multiple times a day, wearing my AffloVest to break up the mucus, gross, I know and – I hold up the bottle – “a whole lot of this liquid nutrition through my g-tube at night. If any of you guys wish you could consume 5000 calories daily and still have a banging beach bod, I’ll trade you any time.”

My computer dings away, messages and comments streaming in, one after another. Reading a few of the comments, I let the positivity and support of the fans, push away the negativity I’d felt before starting the Vlive.

_‘Hang in there, Felix. Stay love you!’_

_‘Even in a hospital gown he’d manage to be hot. Marry me!’_

I smirk at the last comment.

“A set of new lungs could come in at any moment, so I’ve really got to prepare myself for this.” I say the words, making sure to sound more confident than I actually feel. Being a sufferer of CF, you learn quickly not to get too ahead of yourself.

Ding! Another comment.

_‘I’ve got CF too, knowing that someone who’s got influence is willing to talk about their ordeal let’s me know I’m not alone in all of this. Thanks, Felix and get better soon!’_

My heart warms and I give the camera a genuine smile, the first all day, for that person fighting the same fight that I am. “All right guys, I gotta sign off. Dr Kim’s coming around the check my vitals and as riveting as I’m sure that’d be for you all, I think I’ve taken enough of your time. Thanks for watching though, and make sure to have loads of fun on Stray Kids tour! Bye!”

I wave at the camera, turning off the Vlive after a couple of seconds. Closing my laptop, I lie back on the mattress and close my eyes. No sooner have I done so, there’s a knock on the door. I make to sit up, but before I can do so, the door flies upon, my nurse, Soo-Young barging into the room. I notice in her hands, she holds a tray full of chocolate puddings for me to take my medication with.

“Special delivery for my favourite celebrity patient!”

When it comes to Soo-Young, not much has changed in the past six months since my last admission; she’s still the best. She’s still got the same colourful hospital scrubs, permed hair and a smile that can light up a whole room.

Just then a heavily pregnant Hyerin enters the room behind Soo-Young, carrying an IV bag.

Now _that’s_ a big change from six months ago.

I try and hide my surprise and instead grin at Soo-Young as she places the tray of pudding atop the medication cart, pulling a check-list to make sure I have everything I need.

“What would I do without you, Soo-Young?”

“Let’s see… you’d die?” She winks.

Hyerin hangs the IV bag up next to me, her belly brushing up against my arm. Why didn’t anyone tell me she was pregnant? I go rigid, smiling thinly as I eye her baby bump, trying to be subtle in moving away from it. “Got to say, I wasn’t expecting that.” 

She rubs her belly affectionately, giving me a big smile. “You want to feel the baby kick?”

“No,” I say, a little too quickly. I feel bad when I see her face, clearly taken aback at my bluntness. It’s not that I don’t want to feel the baby, I just don’t want to run the risk of it getting sick.

“All righty,” Soo-Young says, checking all my vitals. She nods to the medication cart, resting a hand upon her hip. “I’m still going to monitor you, but you’re pretty much good to go.” She holds up one of the pill bottles. “Remember, you have to take this one with food,” placing it back on the medication cart, picking up another bottle. “And make sure you don’t…”

“I know.” I say, reassuring her that I’m not entirely useless when it comes to self-medicating.

I wave good-bye as the both of them head towards the door. Soo-Young stops, turning back to me before exiting the room.

“By the way,” Soo-Young says, her eyes narrowing in a gentle warning look. “I want you to finish your IV drip first, but I thought it’d interest you to know that Chang Bin’s just been checked into room 301.”

“What? Really?” I say, my eyes widening as I move to launch myself off the bed in search of the boy. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me he’d be here.

Soo-Young steps forward, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me gently down back onto the bed before I can fully stand. “What part of ‘I want you to finish your IV drip first’ did you not understand?”

I smile sheepishly up at her; how could she blame me? Chang Bin was the first friend I made when I first came to hospital. He’s the only one who really gets what I’m going through. We’ve both fought against CF together, well, together from a safe distance anyway.

The thing about cystic fibrosis patients is, we can’t get too close to others who also suffer from CF. The chance that cross-infection from certain types of bacteria would occur if we did is pretty high. One touch between two people with CF is enough to kill them both. Literally.

Soo-Young’s face gentles. “Get settled in. Relax. Take a chill pill.” She eyes the medication cart. “Not literally, obviously.”

I nod, a genuine chuckle escaping my mouth. It’s a relief, knowing Chang Bin is here.

“I’ll come back later to help you with your AffloVest,” Soo-Young says over her shoulder as she turns to leave. “And remember, no running off til that IV is empty. Got it?”

I nod vigorously, waving her off as she slides the door closed behind her. Grabbing my phone, I send a quick text through to Chang Bin’s phone, keeping my promise of not dashing down the hall to room 301.

_‘Bro, you’re here? Me too. Face-time me.’_

Not even a second passes before my screen lights up with his reply:

_‘Bronchitis. Just happened. Come by later and give me a wave. Gonna crash now.’_

I reply with a thumbs up and put my phone onto charge.

Truth be told, I’m nervous about this visit. My lung capacity fell to 35% so quickly. And now, even more than the fever and the sore throat, being in the hospital for the next month partaking in treatment after treatment while my band mates, my friends, are far away on tour, has me freaking out. A lot. Thirty-five percent is a number that keeps my mum up at night. She mightn’t say it, but I can see her online, all hours of the night, no doubt Google searching information on lung transplants and lung-function percentages. Essentially, how to give me more time. When you learn that you have CF, you quickly come to accept that you’ll most likely die young. I’m not afraid of this for myself, but I am for my parents, for my friends and for my fans. What will become of them if the worst should happen? I wish I knew.


	2. Felix II

The remainder of the afternoon goes by slowly.

I work on some music I’ve been hoping to release in Stray Kids next album, rub some ointment in the sore that’s flared up around my g-tube, double-check my medication cart and reply to my parents on-the-hour-every-hour text messages. When not occupied doing any of the above listed things, I gaze out the bay window of my room. At one stage during the day I see, out the somewhat foggy window, a couple around about my age, laughing and kissing as they enter the hospital foyer. Watching them holding hands, exchanging longing glances, I wonder what it would be like to have somebody look at me like that. Sure; the fans don’t fall short of their proclamations of love and adoration, but they only see the idol side of me. They don’t see my cannula, my g-tube, my scars, me.

Knowing that, I doubt that they’d be lining up to date me.

I mean, I’m not a complete relationship virgin. I ‘dated’ a number of girls during my time in Australia but none of the relationships lasted more than a couple of months. I can remember my last relationship didn’t even last that long; I came down with an infection and needed to go to hospital for a few weeks, until I was in the clear. A couple of days into my stay, my girlfriend’s (at the time) texts came more and more sporadically until they didn’t come at all. Given her lack of support and interest, it was easier to break up with her than to maintain a relationship that clearly wasn’t going anywhere, much like I’m not at the moment.

This thought process isn’t exactly productive, so I decide instead to distract myself by taking up #22 on my to-do list; ‘contemplate the after-life’, doing so by reading ‘Life, Death and Immortality: The Journey of the Soul.’ That keeps me amused for all of about thirty minutes wherein I flop back onto the bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling, listening to my breathing. I heart the distinct wheezing of my lungs, struggling to draw in breath. Rolling over, I pick up an open vial of Vick’s Vapour rub, lathering the petroleum jelly in a thick layer across my chest, placing some on my pulse points for good measure.

I lie on the bed, staring numbly at my sister’s drawings, breathing in and out, repeatedly.

I hope that when my parents come to visit over the next few days, that my breathing is a little less laboured. I told them both that the other one was dropping me off at the hospital, but really I’d just had one of the managers drop me off this morning on the way to the studio from the dorm. I don’t want either of them seeing me until I’m looking at least a little better. It was bad enough with the guys giving me troubled looks as I struggled through practice just last week, needing to hook myself up to my portable oxygen tank mid-way through.

There’s a knock on my door, pulling me out of my reverie. I turn my head, hoping to see Changbin’s head poking through but I’m met instead with Soo-Young’s. She places a surgical face-mask and a pair of latex gloves on the cart beside my door. 

“New one upstairs. Meet me in fifteen.”

My heart leaps and I grin, nodding at her as she gives me a big smile before exiting the room. All too quickly I pick up my portable oxygen tank from where it’s been charging off one of the ports on the far side of the room, tossing it over my shoulder, slip on my black converse, pull on the latex gloves and tie the face mask ties up behind my head. After I switch on my portable oxygen tank, hooking the cannula into my nose, I push my door open and head on off down the white-washed hallway, deciding to go the long way so as to pass Changbin’s room.

Heading down the seemingly endless corridor, I smile when I see a Korean flag taped onto the outside of a door that’s been left slightly ajar, a skateboard keeping it from closing fully.

I peer inside to see Changbin fast asleep, curled up surprisingly small under his doona. I smirk at how much he looks like a child despite being a good head taller than myself, leaving a short message on the whiteboard beside his door, letting him know I’ve stopped by before heading back down the hallway, up in an elevator, down the C Wing, across the overpass bridge into building 2 and directly into the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.

One of the perks (if it can be considered that) of coming here so often is that I know the hospital as well as I know the back of my own hand. I know every winding corridor, hidden staircase and secret shortcut.

I make my way over to the large wooden doors that lead into the NICU but before I can open them, a room door opens next to me. I turn my head and am left with a sense of surprise at seeing the profile of a tall, thin boy I’ve never seen before. He’s standing in the doorway to room 315, holding a sketchbook in one hand and a charcoal pencil in the other, a white hospital ID bracelet wrapped around his slender wrist.

I stop dead. 

His tousled hair is perfectly unruly, like he just popped out of Dazed and somehow ended up here by mistake. His eyes are a deep brown, the corners of which crinkle slightly as he talks. But it’s his smile that captures my eye more than anything else. It’s lopsided and charming and has a magnetic warmth to it.

He’s so cute that I feel as though my lung function has dropped another 10%. It’s a good thing I’m wearing a face-mask that covers half my face because I did not plan for cute boys, causing me to have a ‘panicked gay’ moment.

“I’ve clocked their schedule,” cute boy says as he puts the charcoal pencil behind his ears casually. I shift slightly to the left to see he’s grinning at the couple I saw coming into the hospital earlier. “So, unless you plant your ass on the call-button, no one’s going to bother you for at least an hour. Oh; and please don’t forget that I’ve got to sleep on that bed.”

“Way ahead of you.” I watch with curiosity as the girl unzips a duffel bag, pulling out a heap of blankets and tossing them onto the bed.

Wait. What?

Cute guy whistles. “Look at you, a proper girl scout.”

“Dude, we’re not total animals,” the girls boyfriend says, giving him a ‘bro-to-bro’ look.

Ugh. Cute guy’s going to allow his friends to have sex in his hospital room, like it’s a motel or something.

I grimace slightly at the thought but smirk at the ridiculousness of it all, heading towards the double doors, putting as much space between me and whatever scene is going to play out in room 315.

Panicked gay moment well and truly had.


	3. Chris

“All right, I’ll see you guys later,” I say as I wink at Jae, closing the door to my room to give them privacy. Turning heel, I squint down the hallway to see the set of double doors swinging shut behind the guy I saw moving his stuff into a room down the hallway earlier today, his well-worn converse disappearing onto the other side. He’d been by himself, which I admit had surprised me, given the size of his duffel bag (big enough to fit three fully grown adults), but he’d managed, despite his frail looking figure.

Take away his clearly haggard look from struggling to breathe; he’d actually be kind of hot. And while I don’t consider that I tend to swing that way, I can appreciate a good-looking guy when I see one. It helps that said good-looking guy happens to be staying just five doors down from myself.

Looking down at the sketchbook in my hands, I shrug, rolling it up and stuffing it into my back pocket before heading down the hallway and through the double doors. After all, it’s not like I have anything better to do, and I’m certainly not hanging around here for an hour while my friends get there rocks off to one another.

Pushing my way through the doors, I see him making his way across the grey tiled floor, waving and grinning to almost everyone as he goes. He steps into the large glass elevator that overlooks what I guess is the Eastern lobby, a soft smirk coming to his face at the decked out Christmas tree that must’ve been put up earlier in the morning, a few too many weeks before Christmas to be considered acceptable. 

I watch as he fixes his facemask, leaning to push the button for level five, the doors closing slowly shortly after he does so. 

I start climbing the staircase, accessible opposite the elevator, trying not to run into anyone as I watch it move slowly to the fifth floor. I run up the stairs as fast as my lungs will allow for, managing to get to the fifth floor with enough time to breakout into a serious coughing fit and recover before he arrives at the fifth level, exits the elevator and makes his way around a corner. I rub my chest, clearing my throat and follow him down a couple more hallways before coming to an overpass that leads into the adjoining building.

Even though he only arrived, I assume, this morning, it’s clear he knows his way around. Clearly not a first-time visitor. Heck; I’ve been here two weeks and it’s taken me that long to figure out how to sneak from my room to the café in Building 2, unnoticed and I’m by no means directionally challenged.

He stops short at a set of double doors, the sign overhead reading ‘Neonatal Intensive Care Unit: East Entrance’. He pushes the doors open slightly, peeking inside before closing them shut behind him. 

The NICU? That’s odd.

Having kids when you’re a sufferer of CF falls under the ‘near impossible’ category. I’ve heard of girls with CF getting really bummed out about it, but for a guy to go staring at the babies he’ll most probably never get the chance to have? That’s a whole other level.

It’s fucking depressing, if anything.

There’s a lot of things that piss me off about CF but I can’t say that I’m personally all that bothered by the probability that I’ll never have kids. Most guys who have CF are infertile anyway, which at least means I don’t have to worry about getting anyone pregnant, not that I’d live long enough to as it were anyway.

Looking both ways, I close the gap between myself and the doors, peering inside to see him standing in front of the viewing pane, his eyes focused on a baby asleep within an incubator on the other side of the glass, the baby’s fragile arms and legs are hooked up to machines ten times it’s size.

Pushing the door open, I slip into the dimly lit hallway, smirking as I watch Converse boy for a moment. I can’t help but stare at his reflection, everything beyond the glass-viewing pane becoming blurred as I take him in. He’s almost ethereal up close, with long eyelashes and freckles that colour the skin around his cheeks and nose. He even manages to make a facemask look good, and that’s not a feat pulled off by many. I watch intently as he tucks his all-too-long dyed auburn hair behind his ears, staring at the baby in the incubator with a determined focus.

I clear my throat, garnering his attention. “And here I was thinking that this was going to be another lame hospital filled with lame sickos but then you pop up, I guess I was wrong. Lucky me.”

His eyes meet mine in the reflection of the glass, surprise filling them at first and then, almost immediately, being replaced with a look of disgust. He looks away, his eyes trailing back to the baby, saying nothing.

Well, that’s always a promising sign; nothing like repulsion to start things off with.

“I saw you moving into your room; you going to be here a while?” I perk up after a few minutes go by.

He doesn’t say anything. If it weren’t for his slight eye-roll that I catch in the reflection, I’d have thought he didn’t hear me.

“Oh, I get it; I’m that good looking you can’t ever form proper sentences around me.”

That annoys him enough to warrant a response.

“Mate, rather than wondering about who I am and what I’m doing here, shouldn’t you be more focused on procuring your ‘guests’ their own private suite?” he drawls on, pulling his facemask off as he turns to face me.

His thick Australian accent catches me off guard for a moment, causing me to laugh, surprised by how out of place he is here, in Seoul’s largest hospital.

My laughing really ticks him off.

“Or what, do you rent by the hour or something?” he asks, his onyx eyes narrowing.

“So it _was_ you lurking in the hallway earlier!”

“Ugh, I don’t lurk. And besides, _you’re_ the one that followed _me_ here, how’s that for lurking?”

It’s a valid point, but he was definitely lurking in that hallway earlier.

I hold my hands up in mock defeat. “Hey, I merely lurked with the intent of introducing myself but…”

“Yeah, cool story bro. Let me guess,” he says, cutting me off. “You consider yourself a rebel. You ignore the rules because you like the sense of being in control, am I right or am I right?”

“You’re not wrong.” I shoot back, leaning casually against the wall, folding my arms across my chest.

“What the heck’s with that smirk? You think you’re being seductive or something? Cause sorry to burst your bubble but I don’t really find Korean dudes all that attractive.”

I grin at him. “Yeah, I’m not sure I really believe you on that one. You stood an awfully long time in the hallway, totally transfixed. I was afraid you’d stopped working properly or something.”

He rolls his eyes, clearly not all that entertained by me. “Um okay, whatever any of that means. But seriously; letting your friends borrow your room for sex is kind of gross.”

Oh dear. We have a virgin on our hands it seems.

“Sex? Oh heavens no. They told me they would be holding a slightly rowdy movie marathon for the better part of an hour. The whole works; popcorn and everything.”

He scowls at me incredulously, definitely not amused by my sarcasm.

“Ah, so that’s what this is about; you have something against sex.” I say, shaking my head in disbelief.

He looks at me blankly. “Dude, I know it mightn’t seem like it, but I don’t have anything against sex; I am a hot-blooded teenager, you know, if you haven’t noticed. Sex is fine.”

That is the biggest lie I’ve heard all year and given that I’m surrounded by people who, on the daily, sugar coat the fact that I’m dying, says a lot.

I laugh. “’Fine’ isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement but I’ll take common ground where I can get it.”

His perfectly thick eyebrows form a frown. “We have _nothing_ in common.”

I wink, having way too much fun pissing him off. “Brrr. Cold, I like it.”

Before he can make a come back the double doors burst open, Soo-Young bustling through, making the both of us jump in surprise at the sudden noise. 

“Christopher Bang! What are you doing in here? You’re not supposed to leave the third floor after that stunt you pulled last week.”

 I look back over to the boy. “There you go, a name, to go with your psych profile. And, you are?”

He glowers at me, pulling his surgical facemask back over his mouth before Soo-Young notices. “Ignoring you.”

Good. Mr Goodie-Two shoes has some spunk.

“Six-feet apart at all times, you both know the rules!” I realise I’m standing a little too close and take a step back. Soo-Young turns to look at me, her eyes narrowing. “Again; what are you doing in here, Christopher?”

“Ugh,” I begin, pointing at the babies in incubators behind the viewing pane. “Looking at babies?”

She’s clearly not amused. “Get back to your room. And where is your facemask?” I reach up to touch my maskless face. “Felix, thank you for keeping your facemask on.”

“He didn’t have it on five seconds ago,” I mutter. Felix glares at me over Soo-Young’s head and I give him a wink. 

Felix. His name is Felix.

I can see Soo-Young’s really about to lose her shit so I decide to make my exit. I’ve had more that enough lecturing for one morning.

“Lighten up, Felix,” I say, sauntering towards the double doors. “It’s just life; it’ll be over before we know it.”

I push through the double doors without so much as a backwards glance, leaving Felix standing there dumbfounded.


	4. Chris II

I head out the doors, across the overhead bridge and down C Wing. Instead of heading back the long way, I hop onto a shakier, non-glass elevator that, I discovered two days ago, goes directly back to the third floor. It spits me out right by the nurses station where Hyerin stands reading over some paperwork.

“Hey, Hyerin,” I say, leaning heavily on the counter.

She glances up at me briefly before returning to the paperwork that she was reading. “Just what were you up to?” 

“Eh, not much. Just roaming about the hospital and pissing off Soo-Young,” I say, twirling a pencil I’d picked up around in my fingers. “She’s such a ball breaker.”

“Chris, she’s not a ball breaker, she’s just…”

I give Hyerin a stern look. “A ball breaker.”

Hyerin looks up and leans across the nurses station, placing a hand on her swollen belly. She sighs. “She’s firm. The rules matter, especially to Soo-Young. She doesn’t take chances. She can’t afford to.”

I glance over to see the doors at the end of the hallway open as Soo-Young and Felix himself step through them.

Soo-Young’s eyes narrow at me and I shrug innocently. “What? I’m not doing anything I’m not supposed to. Just talking to Hyerin, is that such a crime?”

Soo-Young huffs, and she and Felix walk off down the hallway towards Felix’s room. Felix fixes his face mask, looking back at me, his eyes meeting mine for a fraction of a second.

I smirk, watching as he enters his room.

“He hates me.”

“Hm? Who does?” Hyerin asks, following my gaze down the hallway.

The door closes behind Felix, and I tear my eyes away to look back at Hyerin. She gives me a look that I’ve seen about a million times since I’ve arrived here. Her soft brown eyes fill with a mix of ‘Are you crazy?’ and a look akin to genuine concern. Mostly ‘Are you crazy?’ though.

“Don’t get any ideas, Chris.”

I glance down at the file sitting open on the desk in front of her, the name of whose file it is jumping out at me from the upper left-hand corner.

Felix Lee.

“Okay,” I say, like it’s no big deal. “Good night.”

I stroll down the hallway to my room, 315, coughing as I drag my feet along the linoleum covered floor, my lungs wheezing, chest and throat aching from my earlier escapades. If I’d known I’d have been required to run the equivalent of a marathon, I’d have bothered with bring my portable oxygen pack with me.

Though, who am I kidding really? Even having done so wouldn’t have made any difference to the end result.

I check the hall clock to make sure it’s been at least an hour before sliding the door open and stepping inside. I flip the light switch on, noticing a note left by Jae sitting neatly on my bedside table.

How romantic.

I try not to be disappointed that he and his girlfriend have already left. My mum pulled me out of the JYP trainee program and out of school and I was forced to sit through many a gruelling hour of home schooling, my holidays consisting of a taste in international hospital tourism when I was diagnosed with having B. Cepia around about 8 months go now. As if my life span wasn’t already going to be ridiculously short thanks to CF, B. Cepia comes along and cuts off a huge chunk of that, making my already shitty lung function deplete at an even faster rate than those with the ‘normal’ strain of CF. Oh, and another thing; they don’t give new lungs to those with B. Cepia, an antibiotic-resistant bacteria going to town in your blood stream.

None of this my mother seems to take any notice of though. ‘Incurable’ is only a suggestion to her and she’s determined to find that needle-in-a-haystack treatment, even if it means cutting me off from the outside world.

If there’s any positive to be found in this situation, this hospital is only a half hour from my old school, which means Jae and his girlfriend can come visit me often, filing me in on the happenings of their and everyone else’s love lives. Since I was diagnosed with having B. Cepia, I feel like they’re the only ones who haven’t treated me like some kind of lab rat. They've always been that way; maybe that’s why they’re so well suited to each other.

Picking up the note, I unfold it to see a heart and, in Lisa’s neat cursive writing, ‘See you soon, Chris. B! Two weeks til you’re big 21st! Love, Jae and Lisa.’ Reading the note, I can’t help but smile. 

The big 21, huh? I’ll be finished with the latest clinical drug trial and out of this hospital and can finally have the chance to do something with my life, instead of only being able to sit by and watch as my mother wastes it. 

No more hospitals. No more being pent up in whitewashed buildings that suck the literal life out of you. No more Doctors using me as a way to test drug after drug and treatment after treatment only to have them none of them work.

If I’m going to die, I’d like the option of being able to _live_ first.

And then, and _only_ then, will I die.

I re-read the note, thinking about my fateful last day. I’d like to say I’d spend it somewhere poetic, a beach back home in Australia maybe or just hanging out at home, surrounded by my family and friends. Just no white washed walls. I think I could die happy then.

I toss the note onto the end of my bed, eyeing the sheets before giving them a quick whiff, just to be safe. Bleachy. Good, just the way I like it.

I slide into the squeaky leather chair by the large bay window, pushing aside an array of coloured pencils and sketchbooks and grab my laptop from where I’d left it on the floor. I open Google Chrome and type in the name ‘Felix Lee’, not really knowing what to expect. The page takes longer to load than it normally thanks to the hospitals pre-historic speed WIFI and I’m left feeling a sense of anticipation that I can’t quite explain. After a few more moments that feel like an eternity, the page loads and I’m met with a plethora of links to pages and photos of a boy who, I’m guessing before CF took a hold, had full cheeks, the cheeks I’ve noted are sprayed with freckles, golden skin that I can only assume has been sun-kissed over the years he’s spent in Australia; there’s no denying that accent. He’s kind of beautiful, ethereal even, his quiet presence obvious even in still images. Scrolling down I see his Wiki page and click on it. It reads:

_‘Felix Lee, (Korean name Lee Yong-bok) is a Korean pop singer presently affiliated with JYP Entertainment and is one of seven members of the Korean boy band 'Stray Kids'. Felix as he is quoted as preferring to go by, serves as the groups lead dancer and rapper. Born to South Korean parents in Sydney, Australia, Felix is fluent in English and Korean and is one of three children, having an older sister, Rachel and a younger sister, Olivia._

_Prior to ‘Stray Kids’ debut, Felix, along with the other six members, partook in the reality TV show, ‘Stray Kids,’ which premiered on Mnet in October 2017. Created by JYP Entertainment in order to launch a male idol debut project, the show quickly garnered public attention. In October 2017, ‘Stray Kids’ first single, titled ‘Hellevator,’ was released. Despite the songs success, Felix, due to complications with his health, was removed from the remainder of the show. Felix, along with another member of the group, Lee Minho, were removed from the group for a time for differing reasons however both members were later be brought back as it was decided by JYP Entertainment that ‘Stray Kids’ would retain all seven original members in the final line-up. After releasing their pre-debut extended album ‘Mixtape’ in January 2018, the group made their official debut in March the same year. The group, despite Felix’s ongoing health issues and often absences, have since released three more EPs, several singles, and multiple music videos. In 2018, Felix and his group received the New Hallyu Rookie Award at the Soribada Best K-Music Awards.’_

Cool. So he’s some sort of celebrity. Suppose that explains the unnaturally blonde hair. Not that it doesn’t suit him, because it does, almost too well, but no Korean is born with blonde hair. Everyone knows that.

I click the ‘back’ button and scroll down the Google page until I come to a link for a webpage called ‘Vlive’. Seems promising. I click on it and the webpage loads onto what I can only guess is some sort of live streaming service. I scroll my cursor down the page. There’s heaps of videos, at least a hundred, dating back a few years to when Felix and the group were still trainees. I click on a few of the videos; dance practices, fan meetings, dorm life. In the short snippets I watch of the videos, Felix seems to be a lot healthier, and of course, happier, more full of life. He begins to appear less and less in videos as I scroll further towards the top of the page and I can only guess that’s thanks to his CF.

Just as I’m about to exit the page, my eyes skim over one of the latest videos. It’s titled ‘Felix Lee’s not so secret struggle with CF’. I click on the video, its upload date is linked back to a couple of days ago, meaning he probably filmed it the day I saw him moving into his room down the hallway. I click on it and can’t help but laugh at how peppy he appears in the video; not at all like the surly teenage boy I had the pleasure of meeting at the viewing panel in the NICU. 

I increase the volume so I can better hear his voice, his Australian accent a kind of lull.

“Like all of the folk with CF, I was born terminal. For me, my symptoms didn’t flare up until I was a fair bit older, so I got to do this that a lot of other kids don’t, and for that I feel pretty lucky. For those who don’t know, cystic fibrosis or CF for short, is a disease that causes my body to produce too much mucus. Gross, I know. Cause of the mucus, my lungs function at about half the capacity that a healthy set of lungs would.” 

There’s a weird cut in the Vlive and despite the audio being unaffected, the video glitches and freezes on a close up shot of his freckles. I find myself smirking softly at how prominent his freckles are on his sun-warmed skin and can’t help but get the weird notion that they’re perfect for kissing. Shaking my head slightly as if it to rid myself of the thought, I notice the Vlive has corrected itself and go back to paying attention the video.

“So as shitty as it sounds, not even sure if I’m meant to be using that word on Vlive but whatever, my Doctor has said that I’m most likely going to need a transplant unless someone out there happens to come up with a miracle cure. A transplant isn’t a cure to CF but it does mean that I’ll have an extended lease on life and at this point, I’ll take anything.”

Tell me about it Felix.

At least he has a chance.


	5. Felix III

Once back in my room, I pull on the navy blue AffloVest, snapping it closed across my skinny torso with Soo-Young’s help. It looks awfully similar to a life vest, and I suppose that in a way it is, though not in a traditional sense.

“So, the new kid, Chris or whatever, he has CF?” I ask Soo-Young, despite that I already know the answer. I pull at the shoulder of the vest to prevent it from cutting into my bony collarbone.

“He has B. Cepia. He’s a part of a new drug trial for Cevaflomalin.” She reaches over to the wall of various plugs and switches, flicking on the switch for the AffloVest, looking at me sternly.

My eyes widen in disbelief. B. Cepia is pretty much a death sentence for anyone who has CF. He’ll be lucky if he makes it past 25. And that’s only if he’s as dedicated to his regime as I am.

The AffloVest starts to vibrate. Hard. I can feel the build up of mucus in my lungs slowly begin to loosen. 

“You contract that and you can say good-bye to a new pair of lungs,” Soo-Young adds, eyeing me. “Stay away from him.”

I nod. I fully intend to; I need that extra time. Besides, as much I pity the guy, he was too full of himself to be considered friend material.

“The trial,” I start say, holding up a hand to pause the conversation as I cough up some phlegm. Soo-Young hands me a tissue, and I spit the phlegm out, wiping my mouth before continuing on with my earlier question. “What are his odds?”

Soo-Young exhales, shaking her head before meeting my gaze. “Nobody knows. The drug is too new.”

Her look says more than her words and the both of us fall into silence, the only noise coming from the AffloVest.

“Well, I think my job here is done. Is there anything else you need before I clock off?”

I grin at Soo-Young, giving her my best impression of puppy-dog eyes. “A milkshake?”

She rolls her eyes, placing her hands on her hips. “What am I, room service?”

“Hey, I’ve got to take full advantage of any perks I might be entitled to.” I say, which causes her to laugh. 

She exits the room and I sit back, the AffloVest causing my whole body to shake as it works to clear my lungs. My mind wanders and I picture Chris’s reflection in the glass of the viewing panel of the NICU, standing just behind me, a daring grin upon his face.

B. Cepia. That’s rough.

But walking around the hospital without a face mask on? That’s asking for all sorts of trouble. I’ve seen his type around the hospital one too many times. The carefree, brave-heart, stoic despite their diagnosis, type. It’s not even original.

“All right,” Soo-Young says, re-entering the room after about a fifteen-minute interval. I see in her hand she’s holding not one but _two_ milkshakes. "This should tide you over for a little while.”

“Much obliged.”

She nods and gives me a fist bump before wishing me a good night. “See you tomorrow Felix.”

With Soo-Young gone, I sit and stare out of the window, coughing up copious amounts of phlegm as the AflloVest works to clear my airways and lungs. My eyes travel to the photo frame sitting neatly on the bedside table. My chest begins to hurt in a way that has nothing to do with the AffloVest. I think of the members of Stray Kids, my parents, my sisters. I pick up to see a text message from Woojin. It’s a picture of the fan meet that was held today ahead of the kick off of the tour. I can see there’s lots of fans holding up signs with messages wishing me a speedy recovery. For some reason seeing all the signs makes feel the desperate need to call and hear the guys voices. I tap on Woojin’s contact information and almost press the green call button but stop myself at the very last second. I never call the guys on my first day in the hospital. Besides, all the coughing I’m doing would only cause them to worry and lead to distraction while they’re on tour.

I don’t want to worry them. _I can’t_.


	6. Felix IIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Depiction of choking within this chapter, so just a heads up for anyone that's particularly squimmish. Also swearing.

My eyes shoot open the following morning and in my foggy stupor for what woke me, seeing my phone vibrating on the floor, having fallen off the bedside table. I squint at the drained milkshake glasses and mound of chocolate pudding tubs that take up practically the entirety of the table; it’s no wonder the phone fell off.

I groan, reaching over the bed to grab my phone up off the floor, my G-tube burning from the movement. I touch my side gingerly, lifting my top to unhook the tube, surprised to see that the skin around the opening is even more irritated than it was yesterday.

That’s not good. Irritations usually go away with a bit of trusty Fucidin, but my application yesterday doesn’t seemed to have helped much. 

Dropping my phone on the bed I grab the tube of Fucidin from the bedside drawer, squirting a generous glob onto the tip of my index finger and smothering the wound site with it, hoping that will help clear it up. With that sorted I go back to checking my phone; I have a missed call from my mum, a couple of SnapChat notifications from a couple of my friends back in Australia and a plethora of KakaoTalk messages from the boys. I’m about to open the group chat on KakaoTalk when my phone vibrates with a text from Changbin: _‘You up?’_  

I shoot back a quick message answering him that yes, I’m awake, and asking him if he wants to drag himself out of bed and have breakfast with me in twenty minutes. Less than a second later he replies with: ‘You know it bro.’

Replying with a ‘thumbs up’ emoji, I toss the phone down the end of the bed and swing my legs over the side, standing myself up. Peering out the window it seems like a nice day outside and I feel a sense of frustration at having to be shut inside. Sighing I walk across the room to the bathroom, pulling my PJ top off over my head and shoving the matching pants down my hips, kicking them off my ankles, leaving me in my boxers and the PJ’s in a pile by the bathroom door. I catch my reflection in the large wall-hung mirror and am taken aback by what I see. I’ve always prided myself on being a fairly athletic, fit type guy, never being as built as some of the other guys my age but having enough meat on my bones to be considered muscly. Now when I look at myself I can see that my ribs and hipbones are protruding from beneath my once sun kissed, now sallow skin. My arms are so thin that if enough pressure were applied, they would break and the bags under my eyes make me look like a chronic insomniac. It’s one thing to be sick, but to actually look it? That just makes things worse.

I strip off my boxers, closing my eyes so as to not have to look at how much my manhood has suffered in the past few months and step into the shower. Given the time I would have stood under the hot water, letting it seep it’s warmth into my skin but with my breakfast date with Changbin fast approaching, I take only a few minutes to lather my body with body wash, brush my teeth and wash my hair and face. After what has to be the shortest shower in history, I turn the water off, step out of the shower into the steamy bathroom and towel my body and hair dry, pulling on a fresh pair of boxers I’d left on a shelf in the bathroom. I don’t pay too much attention to what shirt and pair of jeans I pull out of the chest of drawers in my room, instead focused on not irritating the angry flesh around my G-tube any more than it already is.

Fully dressed I pull on my pair of scuffed up black converse and exit my room, making my way down the hallway and out towards the cafeteria. Making my way to the cafeteria I walk past Chris’s room and notice his door open, his room missing of him. I wonder where he might have sauntered off to this time but don’t stop to poke my head in. Past Changbin’s room, also empty, and the nurses station where I wave good morning to Hyerin.

Out of the ward I approach the elevator that will take me down to the cafeteria. Just as I’m about to step into the elevator I see Chris from across the landing. He’s got his hand on the handle to the stairway that leads to level five and the NICU. He waves at me, mouthing a ‘Hey’ as he does. I decide it’d be rude to blatantly ignore him, so I give him a nod of acknowledgement as the elevator doors close.

I shake my head in annoyance at having felt a pang through my chest at his crookedly charming smile and dimpled cheeks, remembering Soo-Young’s stern warning: _‘Stay away from him.’_

The elevator arrives at ground level and the doors open, my eyes meeting Changbin’s, who’s waving at me enthusiastically from across the room. I notice that he’s wearing his thick-rimmed glasses in an effort to hide his tired eyes and that he hasn’t bothered showering or changing out of his PJ’s.

“Hey boy, you are looking worn! You go on one of your pudding benders last night?”

We enter the cafeteria and take our usual seats next to the floor to ceiling window that gives us a view of the park across the road, making sure to stay far away enough from one another so as to not break the ‘six feet apart at all times’ rule.

He’s gotten a haircut since I last saw him. The shiny, jet black hair, shorter now. Neater. He gives me a big ear-to-ear grin and I attempt to grin back as I settle into the chair, but it ends up more of a grimace, the sore around my G-tube causing me more grief than I like to admit.

I know I’m supposed to laugh at his comical question, but I seem to have used up my ‘pretend to be peppy’ quota for the day, at it hasn’t even hit 9:30AM yet.

Changbin frowns. “Uh oh, what’s wrong? Is it the tour? You know you’re lucky to be missing out on all the waiting around in squeezy changing rooms.”

“Nah man, it’s not that. I mean yeah, course I’m gutted to be missing out on the tour but truth be told, practice sessions were getting to be pretty gruelling. Just sucks to be shut in on a day as nice as today, you know?”

Changbin gives me a challenging look, like he can tell that’s not all that’s on my mind and that I’m not getting away with things that easily but he’s probing is interrupted when one of the café staff present us with breakfast menus.

“Yeah well, if you say so,” Changbin says as he skims over the menu, deciding on ordering the ‘Big Breakfast’. I order the same and we pass the time while waiting for our meals by engaging in small talk. 

We don’t have to wait all that long for our meals to arrive, Changbin’s bacon adorned with chives and parsley, mine just plain.

I pick up my knife and folk to start tucking into the scrumptious looking hashbrowns but am distracted by Changbin’s foraging in his dressing gown pocket. 

“What are you doing? Eat up before it gets cold you fool.”

A moment later Changbin pulls a small, glass jar from his pocket, twisting the lid open and sprinkling the contents over his poached eggs.

Wait. What?

“Dude… is that… truffle?” I ask incredulously. “Where the hell did you get truffles in Korea? How did you even afford that shit?” I bombard him with questions.

He wiggles his eyebrows at me, smirking. “I’ve got connections,” he says as he twists the lid shut, returning the bottle to his dressing gown pocket, not bothering to offer me any, the scab. “But before I get my fill, let’s not forget out appetisers.” He holds up his handful of Creon tablets that we’d both prepped while waiting for the food to arrive, the tablets helping us digest the food a little more easily.

“Best part of every meal!” I say sarcastically as I scoop up the red and white tablets out of a small plastic cup next to my plate.

“So,” Changbin says once he’s swallowed the last pill. “Since you won’t spill the beans, let’s talk about me. I’m single and ready to mingle!”

I almost choke on the mouthful food I’m currently chewing through.

“You broke up with Jisoo?” I cough.

Changbin takes a long sip of his milkshake. “Maybe she broke up with me?”

“Did she?”

“Yes! Well, it was a mutual decision,” he says before sighing and shaking his head, “Whatever. She broke up with me. Said that my being in hospital all the time was ‘a strain on the relationship’.”

I frown. They were perfect for each other. Jisoo liked the same things that Changbin did but had enough of her own interests to feed ideas to and with Changbin without the relationship becoming stagnant and boring for either of them. I find it hard to believe that Changbin’s being in hospital would be reason enough for her to breakup with him. She was different from the other people that Changbin had dated. Older somehow, despite only being eighteen. Changbin was different with her. Happier.

“You really liked her Chang, I thought she might’ve been the one.” I say, trying my best to comfort him. I should know better though. Changbin could write a book on commitment issues. Still though, that never stopped him pursuing his next great romance. Before Jisoo it was Nauen and this week it might be Gina. To be honest, I kind of envy him and all his wild romances.

I’ve never been in love before. Being so young when I was accepted into JYP, I never had the chance to fall in love with dating strictly off bounds as a trainee. It’s true that I’ve liked all the people I’ve dated, but I know that I was never head over hills for them as all the sappy romance novels and films depict. Even now, having a little more freedom now that I’m not so closely monitored by JYP, dating is a risk I can’t afford to take. I have to stay focussed. Keep myself alive. Get my transplant. Reduce parental and fan misery. It’s pretty much a full-time job, and not a sexy one.

“Well, clearly she’s not,” Changbin huffs, acting like the breakup isn’t that big of a deal. “Screw her anyway, right?”

“Ugh well, hey, at least you got to do that,” I say, shrugging as I pick at my eggs. I can see Chris’s knowing smirk from yesterday when I told him I’d had sex before. Asshole.

Changbin laughs mid-sip of his milkshake, spluttering, beginning to choke. He slumps over the table as he struggles to breathe.

Oh my god. No, no, no. I jump up, shouting for help. “Changbin!”

The wait staff press an alarm they’ve got behind the counter, alerting a response team that there’s an emergency and that they need to get to the cafeteria stat.

The response team come rushing out of the ER, picking Changbin up from where he’s slumped over at the table and placing him on the floor. They place all sorts of monitors upon his skin, tracking his vitals.

“Blood oxygen levels are in free fall. He’s desatting!”

“He’s choking! Changbin’s choking!” I shout at the team of nurses tending to Changbin, who’s limp and unresponsive on the ground. My eyes fill with tears as I watch on, helpless to do anything. Just then Soo-Young bursts through the doors to the ER, hurrying over to assist the nurse preparing to perform CPR. Just as Soo-Young places her palms onto Changbin’s chest, he opens his eyes and moves to sit up. Fine. Perfectly fine, like a moment ago he wasn’t choking and on the brink of death.

A sense of relief washes over me, quickly replaced by an unexplainable anger as Changbin looks from Soo-Young to me and back again, a sheepish expression upon his face. 

“Sorry! I didn’t think you’d buy the act!” He says, throwing up his hands in defence of his stupidity.

“What the actual fuck? Pretending to choke isn’t funny. At all. I would beat your ass right about now if I could!” I yell at him, coughing as I struggle against my shouts.

He grimaces apologetically.

If my anger was anything to go by, Soo-Young’s is a hundred times that, her anger palpable in the air. She’s so angry that she can’t form a coherent sentence, instead sending the response team away with a point of her finger in the direction of the doors leading to the ER. They pull off the monitors from Changbin’s chest, giving him death glares as they do before hurrying back into the ER.

Soo-Young turns her attention to Changbin, who looks like he might shit his pants out of fear for whatever Soo-Young has to say. Despite my expecting that she too would shout at him for his stupidity, she instead remains calm, clinical, ordering Changbin to return to his room where she would meet him to give him a once over.

Changbin makes to protest, wanting to finish his remaining breakfast, but one look from Soo-Young tells him not to push his luck on that one.

I tell him I’ll video call him later and he and Soo-Young both leave in the elevator that leads back to our level. I sit, shaking my head in disbelief at the eventful morning I’ve had, Changbin’s plate of truffle flaked eggs on the table opposite me already having gone cold.


	7. Chris III

I rub my eyes sleepily, my tray of food sitting forgotten on the bedside table next to me. I’ve been up all night watching his videos; one after another. It's been a Felix Lee marathon, and I've not skipped over anything, not even his sappy CF content related videos.

Scanning the 'recommended videos' on the side of the screen, I click on one I haven't yet watched.

The video is dated from last year. The lighting is terrible and it looks like Felix had taken it at some sort of art exhibition or show, so there's varying levels of indiscernible chatter in the background.

The camera focuses on a severe looking man holding what looks like a trophy firmly in his hands while a fairly pretty, young woman sits nervously on a chair behind him. I recognise the young woman from some of Felix's other videos, it's his older sister, Rachel.

The screen flips and focuses in on Felix's face, a cheesy grin on his face, the spray of his freckles upon his cheeks and nose on full display. I cough in surprise at how different he looks; unabashedly happy. Calm. Not like he's been in person. Even the nose cannula doesn't look out of place when he smiles like that.

"There we have Rachel stealing the show! If I die before I'm 21 at least I can say I've seen my sister achieve her dream!" Felix says as he flips the camera to show an older woman who his sister Rachel looks much like. "Say hi to the camera, mum!"

The woman waves, giving the camera a big grin, big enough to rival even Felix's.

A server passes by and Felix waves her down. "Hey, hi, I'll take a bourbon please."

I snort as his mum shouts out a "No he won't!"

"Nice try mate, you can't pass for beyond pre-pubescent," I say, laughing as a bright light illuminate their faces.

The stern looking man shown briefly at the beginning of the video is announcing the winner to some sort of prize, all the chatter having ceased. "This years winner of the Art Gemini Award, which includes a grant of $30K and a year long exhibition contract with the artists chosen gallery goes to... Rachel Lee! Please give a round of applause for this young lady's outstanding contribution to the art community!"

The cameras view flips back to Felix and his mother, their faces shocked as they look at each and then back to the stage wherein a grin breaks out on both their faces, the camera shaking as Felix begins to clap manically, turning the camera to show his sister, Rachel, receiving her award.

"So, my little brother, Felix, is here tonight, and as much I'm grateful beyond words for having received this award, the night doesn't belong to me, but to him," Rachel says, pointing directly at Felix in the crowd. "No matter how hard things got with his cystic fibrosis, he always championed me and supported me in my pursuit of my dreams and goals. I'm dedicating this award to him, because for me, he is my greatest inspiration. So if it's okay, I'd like for him to come up here and receive the award with me."

Felix's voice comes through my speakers, confused and shocked. "Ugh, mum should I go?"

The camera swings back to his mother's grinning face. "Rachel's right bub, go up there and make us proud," his mum says as everything goes out of focus while Felix hands the camera over to his mother to film.

A few moments later I can just make out Felix making his way through the crowd and up onto the stage. Everyone cheers as he pulls his portable oxygen tank up onto the stage behind him. His sister, Rachel, helps him manoeuvre across the stage and over to the mic.

Felix fiddles with his nose cannula, the announcer adjusting the mic to a more suitable height for a still growing Felix.

Felix takes a deep breath in, exhaling before taking the mic stand in his hands. "This is a first for me, I'm not really sure what to say..." He looks over at Rachel warily, who seems to say something to him that the mic barely picks up.

Rachel chimes up. "If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to end tonight's event with a song. I could continue on with a boring speech that'd most likely put you all to sleep but I think this is a better way to wrap up an art filled evening!"

Rachel starts to mouth the words to a song that I don't recognise. And while it's a little random for the situation, there's no denying that she's good, like freakishly so. She beckons Felix to join her, and like magic, his awkwardness melts away and he joins Rachel in song.  

Wow. Can they both sing.

Rachel rocks this strong and powerful voice whereas Felix's is deep and raspy, smooth in all the right ways. I hit pause as the camera hones in on Felix's face; all his features coming alive in the glow of the spotlight. He's smiling, exuding an almost carefree attitude. He's happy, up on that stage, next to his sister. I wonder then what made him so... uptight, yesterday.

I run my fingers through my hair, taking in his tousled hair, the shadow of his collarbone, the way his brown eyes shine when he smiles. His adrenaline gives his face a tinge of colour, his freckled cheeks a bright, exhilarated pink.

Not gonna lie; he's hot.

Like, really hot.

I look away and- wait a second. There's no way. I highlight the number of views with my cursor.

"A million views? Are you kidding me?"

Who _is_ this guy?


End file.
